


Make Up

by ndnickerson



Series: Red Label [10]
Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: F/M, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>They had fought for the first time the night before.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Up

They had fought for the first time the night before. Not the first time in their relationship, but the first time since their marriage, when she no longer had the option of storming out and going to her own place. He had come home late and tired and she couldn't even remember what it had been about, now. She remembered Mollie barking and his hand tight around her wrist and his face flushed, his jaw tight, and then they had been in a tangle on the couch. Scrabbling for purchase on her knees, her hair in her eyes, shouting something louder than he was, and then they had collapsed to the cream rug between the couch and coffee table. She had stopped, startled, at the force of it, the incredibly loud sound of him hitting the floor. Another breath and he loosed her hand; another breath and she swept her hand over her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes, realizing that she was straddling his waist.

And that, however angry they had been, she wasn't so angry that she wasn't wet at the feel of him hardening between her thighs.

Tonight he came home early. She was almost finished putting the groceries away, and he came in behind her with a bouquet of flowers in pink and lavender, stacking cans in the pantry, grabbing a package of fresh chicken. He held it up.

"Barbecue tonight?"

"That's fine," she said, and smiled at him, and it still felt a little fragile, even though the night before they'd had some of the best sex of their relationship. She had been relieved, because the thought of sleeping alone again after all that time, the thought of him sleeping somewhere else, alone without her, had made her feel almost sick. Fighting with him... God, she hated it, but the anger had been louder for a little while, until it had translated into her nails down his back, his hands shoving her knees into her chest and apart and toward the mattress, livid bite marks on his shoulder and her hip.

After his detour through the bedroom to change out of his work clothes, Nancy followed to do the same, stepping out of her pencil skirt and stacked heels, unbuttoning her shirt. When she slipped out of her pantyhose, she traced the ball of her thumb over her hip, the faded bruised crescents that marked where his teeth had sunk into her flesh. Ned's shoes were in the closet, his suit hanging up, his shirt in the hamper. She found a loose white shirt in eyelet lace and a pair of faded and fraying olive shorts she'd had since she was a camp counselor, stepped into brown sandals and followed Ned out onto the back porch.

"How was your day?"

He smiled. "Slow," he said, as she wrapped her arms around his waist and he basted another piece of chicken with barbecue sauce. "But slow is good. How was your day?"

She shrugged. "I'm sorry I fought with you last night," she said. "But it was almost worth it, for what happened after."

He chuckled. "Flowers okay?"

"The flowers are great," she said, glancing back behind her, into the house. Mollie found a tennis ball and brought it to Nancy, who tossed it toward the back fence, watching as Mollie bounded happily after it. Nancy curved her fingertips around the edge of his collar of his shirt and pulled it to the side, standing on her toes to look at his shoulder.

"Glad to see I'm not the only one with marks on me today."

He looped his arm around her waist and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head, as the chicken hissed on the grill in front of them, the air a solid wall of heat. "Didn't hurt you, did I," he murmured into her hair.

"Nah," she whispered back, leaning against the hard muscle of his shoulder. She felt Mollie's wet nose press against her free hand and reached down without bothering to look, pulling the ball out of Mollie's jaws and tossing it again. "You didn't hurt me."

After dinner they sat on the couch, watching television, while Mollie slumbered, half hanging over the edges of the ottoman. Nancy turned her head and gazed at the side of Ned's face until he turned to her, the sides of his mouth curving up a little, and she pressed a brief kiss against his lips.

"Want anything to drink?"

He shrugged. "Do you? I'll get it."

"No, no," she said, and his arm fell down her back as she slid her legs from underneath her and pushed herself off the couch. "Be right back."

She could pinpoint the exact moment he became bored with the show. She started feeling his gaze on her shirt, even though she didn't move or try to look at him. Her skin was still vaguely sticky with sweat, from standing with him over the grill, her hair in a loose messy ponytail curling against the base of her neck, her sandals kicked under the coffee table. Mollie made a soft sigh in her sleep, and Ned managed, one-handed, to loose the first button of Nancy's shirt.

She didn't look at him. To look was to encourage, and she was still trying to watch, although every inch of her skin felt sensitized, suddenly, waiting. But he didn't follow; his hand retreated to her shoulder, and she shifted her legs, sliding them out from under her to rest her bare feet on the floor.

He took her hair down, next, and without thinking, without being able to resist, she shook her head slightly. Her hair tumbled down over her shoulders, and she knew her heart was beating faster, knew it, but there was nothing she could do. He traced his fingertips very lightly over the back of her neck and she shivered, once, a slight tremble down every limb.

When the show broke for commercial she almost said something, her lips parted in anticipation, but he unbuttoned her shirt very slowly, taking his time, his fingers sliding over the curve of her breasts and the line of her abs as he took each one with a serious deliberation. She waited for him to slide it off but he just slipped his hands over her skin, pushing her shirt fully open so that it hung on the points of her shoulders without falling down. Content for the moment, he stopped, and Nancy bit down a frustrated scream, her breasts rising and falling against the lace of her bra. She looked back at the television, watching some harried housewife agonize over her husband's clothes, and turned to stare at him again. When their gazes met, his expression was perfectly calm and innocent.

She closed her fist around the hem of his shirt and tugged.

He obediently raised his hands and let her pull his shirt off, and she tossed it over the back of the couch. Then she swung her legs over so that she was straddling his waist, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Thought you were watching this," he said softly.

She shrugged, and her shirt fell down her arms, stopping at her fingertips. She tossed it to join his. "Some things are more important."

He drew in a deep breath, nodding, his face tilting forward, but instead of meeting the familiar gesture she let her lips brush his cheek, resting her head on his shoulder as she traced her fingers over his bare chest, slowly, down over his abs. She unbuttoned his jeans, pushed the waistband open with the heels of her hands, and then swung back off him again, her gaze on the television.

Five minutes back into the show, her pulse was nearly back to normal when she felt his hands on her back. Then her bra was loose, hanging by her shoulders alone, the lace and satin brushing her nipples with every breath she took. She closed her eyes for a long moment, but he was being uncharacteristically slow and patient with this, and there was no other coherent thought besides the ache between her thighs and the sudden furious desire to rip his clothes off.

She leaned over and traced her lips a hair's breadth over his skin, so close he could feel the heat of her breath against every screaming nerve, slipped her thumb between the boxers and his skin, and pulled them open. She rested there, and when she felt his hand tangle in her hair she smiled and flicked her tongue out, tracing it over his skin, pressing hard against him. Just an inch under his waistband, the plane of flesh just between his hips, and his hand tightened in her hair, his legs shifting underneath him. She pulled back, her bra loose and his fingertips pressing against her scalp. He wanted to urge her back down. She knew it.

Instead, he loosed his fingers and trailed them down the indention of her spine, down her back, and she arched, abandoning all pretense, resting her head on the back of the couch. He curved his fingertips around the straps hanging loose on her shoulders and slipped them down her arms, and she braced the heels of her hands on the couch beside her hips, waiting.

He was back to watching the television, a slight smile on his face.

She let out a frustrated groan. "You're hopeless."

"I'm hopeless?"

She swung over again, straddling his waist, her nipples hard and brushing against his bare chest. "You're hard," she said, bucking her hips into his for confirmation, and he gasped. "And I'm wet. Incredibly wet. Under this little lace thong," she said, curving one arm around his shoulders, bringing her face close to his to whisper into his ear. "On any other night we'd be fucking by now."

He cupped her breast in his hand, and dragged his thumbnail over her nipple, hard. She gasped, sliding her knees apart so she could open her hips to him, her teeth grazing the tendons in his neck. "Do you wish we were fucking right now?" he asked, slipping the ball of his thumb over her other nipple, stroking it back and forth.

She nodded, resting her hands on his hips, her fingers slipping under his jeans and just inside the waistband of his boxers. He followed his hands with his lips, lifting her to her knees and taking her nipple into his mouth and suckling against it hard, flicking the tip with his tongue, as he walked his fingers down to rest between her open legs. She groaned and he moved to the other, his teeth sliding over the curve of her breast to gently squeeze her nipple between, as he loosed the button and unzipped her shorts. He cupped his hand over her panties, against the heat between her thighs, his other hand on the small of her back, urging her closer to him. He hooked one finger underneath the elastic and she pulled her hands up his back, her nails biting into his skin.

She waited the space of a breath before she slipped back on the couch, away from his touch, and he made a soft protesting noise as she stood before him and pulled him to his feet. She unzipped his jeans and pushed them down with his boxers, smiling at his groan when the elastic slipped over the tip of his erection. She sank to one knee, but before she could make it all the way to the floor, he shook his head, kicking his jeans away from his ankles.

"If you want to do that..."

She laughed when he pulled her back to her feet. "Most guys don't turn down a blowjob when they have the offer."

"Oh, and you know most guys?" He slipped his fingers under her panties and pushed them and her shorts down her legs, watching as she stepped out of them and kicked them behind her.

She shook her head. "Only what I'm told," she said, and her eyes fluttered shut as his fingertip found the beginning of the slit between her thighs, pressing up to the knuckle as he found the button of her clit. He stroked it a few times and her knees went weak, but he caught her before she could slide onto the couch and beg him to finish.

"Will you do it?"

She shook her head again, taking a deep breath before she laced her fingers between his and led him to their bedroom.

"Not right now, not tonight, or not ever?"

She closed the door behind them and pinned him against it briefly, tracing her thumb over the stubble on his jaw. She smiled. "I don't want you to come in my mouth."

"Not even on my birthday?"

He stretched out on the bed and she climbed on top of him, kissing him briefly. "Not even on your birthday."

"But you've tasted it, and I know what you taste like..."

She paused with her tongue against his nipple. "Is there anything else you'd like to try? Because, dear, I would be more than happy to suck your dick until you're about to explode, but I am not going to swallow what happens after."

He dragged his fingernails hard over her breast, over her nipple again, and she moaned. "Let me think about it," he said.

He'd felt cheated, the first time he'd figured out that she could come merely by his manipulation of her clit, without penetration, without even the press of his fingers curved up against the hollow between her thighs. He had thought it would be just foreplay, that she would scream for him to give up and just fuck her, when she'd suddenly been trembling with the height of her orgasm, and he wasn't buried between her thighs, feeling it from the inside.

He knew better, now, as she traced her tongue over the length of his erection and swung herself over him, her knees touching his shoulders. He shoved her legs apart and she was impossibly warm, already wet. His shoulders...

She liked the feel of texture between her thighs. Not the fine texture of his tongue; when he slipped it over her flesh she could only feel pressure. But his fingernails, his teeth, and especially the hard stubble over his chin, those she could feel, those made her scream. He fondled her clit between his fingertips, squeezing it slightly, pulling it gently, and she gasped with the tip of her tongue pressed hard against the tip of his penis. God, he wanted it, and he felt his control slip another inch, his thumbs hooking just inside the seam and parting her. A million flushed screaming nerve endings, and he traced his tongue over one wet fold of trembling flesh, tilted his head back to just run his chin against her for a second before he pulled away. If he did what he wanted, she would stop her ministrations and groan, pant, scream at the feel of every touch, and he couldn't do that.

Instead he made a fist and cradled her clit between the first and second shallow ridge of knuckle, and when she leaned forward to take him into her mouth, his knuckle brushed the tip and she groaned.

"Good?" he whispered, and she suckled against the tip of his penis with renewed intensity, her cooler fingers joined around the base of his erection. Her hips rocked against his fist, and when he suddenly splayed his fingers and curved them up inside her, his thumb against her clit, she panted, gasping. She clenched against him, her tongue curved against him, and another minute of her mouth on his cock would end it for both of them.

He pulled his hands away and she made a soft displeased whimper, her hips still moving over him in a gentle rock. He pressed his palms against her stomach and shoved her off him, onto her back.

"Was it not good for you, baby," she said softly, the hint of laughter in her voice. "I thought I could taste salt."

He sat up and she opened her legs to him immediately, his gaze hot and dark as he stared at the shadow between her thighs. "Oh, it was good," he said, and lifted her legs to slide them over his shoulders. He slid forward until her knees were bent over them, and she was gazing at him with the beginning of a question in her eyes. He flicked the ball of his thumb over her nipple and her eyelashes fluttered.

She cried out in relief when she felt him slide, hard and thick, between the press of her thighs, and she loosed her hips and locked her ankles behind his head. He leaned forward until her knees were brushing the curves of her breasts, until his hips were flush against hers and she was rocking underneath him, slowly.

He claimed her mouth with his and she returned his kiss hard, her lips parted when she felt him begin to slowly pull back out of her. She buried her hand in his hair, tangled her fingers in it and held him to her, her teeth scraping against his tongue and her hips shifting back to press against the angle of his cock. They both gasped then, their kiss stilling, and she cried out when she felt his fingertips slide over her abs. "Oh God, yes," she begged him, and when his thumb slipped between the seam and the tip of his fingernail found her clit, she threw her head back and bared her throat, groaning.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Too soft..."

"What," she whispered, and then he was pulling her into his arms, and then she was somehow pinned between him and the wall. She locked her ankles behind his neck as he thrust into her, groaning, and she found the headboard and wrapped her fingers around it, supporting her weight. Her breasts shook as he thrust again, again, her back slamming into the wall, so hard she could almost feel the blood pooling under her skin with the beginning of another bruise. He was gasping against her hair, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, and her teeth grazed his collarbone. She screamed at one especially rough, deep thrust, and Mollie barked on the other side of the door, and she pulled her legs tight and the angle shifted, and oh God, oh God.

"Yes, yes," she told him, feeling the liquid relief as her clit brushed his erection. Her brow furrowed, her mouth dropped open, and he caught her in another kiss, rough and hard, his hips moving against hers and pinning her into the wall, and the feel of him... she supported her weight on the heels of her hands and thrust her hips to meet his, to feel the hard ram of his cock down to the very tight center of her, until they were frantic and she was sobbing his name, and he didn't stop even when she was clenching him hard and slick inside her over and over, trembling. He slammed her into the wall, slammed his cock between her thighs again, and his eyelashes fluttered when he came, finally, her flesh tender and screaming sensitive at his every movement, she could_hear_ the wet slide of him inside her, the burning coppery tinge of it. His forehead was resting on her lips, and when she loosed her legs and slipped them down to the pillows, she could feel something wet on her heels. Blood.

She swallowed. "That," she whispered, and he didn't move, and the headboard was cold against her ass and the air conditioning clicked on, breathing cool over her breasts, kissing her flushed nipples. "Oh, oh God."

They slipped down together until they were sitting on the bed again, and she could feel the second heartbeat, warm and aching between her thighs. "Ned."

"Yeah," he sighed, and brought his hand up to brush her hair behind her ear, and met her eyes. "You were screaming... it sounded like good screaming..."

She nodded, pushing herself up on her knees to brush her lips against his. "Good screaming," she managed. "Too soft?"

"Oh, the bed," he said, gesturing slowly, and then he reached up to bury his hand in her hair and return her kiss. "Good screaming. I think you slashed my back open."

She blushed, but replied, "I think my back is gonna be one big bruise tomorrow."

"Hmm," he replied, and when she kicked under the covers, sprawled on her back with her thighs loose, she pulled him down to her to lay on his side, his arms draped over her. "I married a nympho, didn't I," he mumbled into her shoulder.

She brushed his hair back. "I'm sure I didn't hear you complaining," she whispered, and he laughed.

She slept, nestling into him, the weight of the blankets and his body pressing her down into the mattress. Mollie had stopped barking as though their very lives were endangered by having loud rough sex, and even though he groaned when he moved, she drifted off, exhausted.

When she woke again, the sky was still dark, the television in the other room was quietly droning an infomercial, and she was cold. She was cold because the blankets were off, and she made a soft noise, her fist closing over them. Sometimes he shoved them off in his sleep...

But he wasn't beside her, he wasn't asleep. She inhaled sharply as she felt the wet warmth of his mouth on her belly, his teeth pressing into her flesh.

"Okay," she murmured, lifting her head. "Rough sex, yes; bondage, yes; but vampirism, Ned?"

"Don't call me the vampire," he said, his voice muffled by her flesh. "I don't even want to know what my back looks like right now."

She traced her fingertips gently over his shoulder blades and felt the rough edges of scabbed-over wounds. Then his teeth sank into her hip, nipping against her flesh, and she fell back against the mattress, arching her spine as she groaned. "Ned," she moaned, as he slipped the blade of his hand between her thighs and urged them apart. She ran her hand through his hair, tensing as he bit her inner thigh. "Am I dreaming this..."

"Do you normally dream about this?" He nipped a line up over her hip, to her belly button, and her abs tensed under the touch of his teeth.

She shook her head, her fingers tightening in his hair. "No, but I think you're somehow hard right now, even though we have never fucked that long in our lives."

"You'd be surprised," he said mildly. He pressed a fingertip slowly between her thighs, and she tilted her head back, her mouth falling open. "So you can be wet but I can't be hard?"

"How could I not be wet," she gasped, bending her knees and tilting them open, her hips shifting under his caress. "Fuck. Come here."

He took her knees and held them against his hips as he pulled her onto her side, to face him on his own, and he met and held her gaze in the dark as he slipped between her thighs again. Her knee traced up his side as she bent her leg, moaning, pulling him toward her, her arm sliding up around his shoulders. They moved slowly, rocking into each other, and she buried her face against his chest, her lips parted in a soft moan. She nipped at his skin, her teeth pressing into the hard muscle, and he paused with his hand cupping her ass, chuckling.

"You bite me so hard you draw blood, and I'll fuck you against the wall again."

"You wouldn't," she breathed, her voice sliding up in a liquid groan, her hips tilting. "There, right there, oh God. Oh God."

He groped over her until he found her breast, and slipped the ball of his thumb over her nipple again, gently and only flicking the tip, and she gasped, pulling away from him, rolling onto her back. They pulled apart and she reached for him again, almost immediately. He kissed her hard, her thighs spread open underneath him as he knelt over her, her fingers tangling in his hair, her legs sliding up to wrap around his waist. He rolled her with him, onto their sides, her nipples brushing his chest as she buried her face in his neck, crying out into his skin. He held her to him, her left thigh pinned under his hip, her fingertips pressing into his shoulder blades as he eased the length of his cock between her legs, into the wet tender heat of her flesh. He lifted his knee and urged her up, shifting the angle of her hips, and she gasped.

"Touch me."

He placed his palm flat against her skin, just beneath her breasts, and traced it down until his fingertips hooked inside the slit of wet flesh, finding her clit. She clenched instinctively against him, her mouth open in a wet low groan as he buried his face against the crown of her head, their bodies tangled hard together, his hips shifting between hers. Then she rolled onto her back, locking her ankles and pulling him with her, trapping his hand between the press of their bodies, between her thighs.

"Slow," she breathed, nipping at the soft flesh under his jaw, crying out against his collarbone when his fingertips twitched against her clit. His first thrusts were gentle, soft, slow, long, and he could feel every heartbeat as her flesh clenched against his cock. His breath ruffled her hair as he pressed into her again, long and languorous, her knees tilting back toward the mattress. She raked her fingernails over his scalp and he shifted suddenly, his nail flicking over the tip of her clit, and she screamed.

"Do you want this," he whispered, sliding so deep inside her that their hips were flush seamless and he could hear the beginning of pain when she whimpered.

"I want you," she whispered, sliding her arms around his shoulders and holding him tight. "Please, please... I want you, I want you to make me come..."

He kissed her, her hips moving slow under his, his tongue darting between her lips and tracing over hers. Her legs fell open against his first thrust, slowly, and she cried out against his shoulder. He tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her head back until her throat was bared, he thumbed the tip of her clit again, and immediately, immediately, as his teeth traced down the length of her neck she spasmed hard, trembling, over and over, her hips thrusting up to meet his, her heels planted on the tangle of blankets as she pressed herself up to him.

"Baby," he cried, and she screamed against his chest, moving frantically against his hard short thrusts, his thumb pressing into her clit, and she was so wet and he was so hard and he collapsed to her and came hard and rough inside her, his teeth sinking into her shoulder.

"I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow," she groaned when he rolled off her. "Or sit down. Or find a collar high enough to hide the marks you left on my neck."

Ned chuckled. "Every time Bill sees a new mark on me, I think he wishes he'd figured out a way to break the two of us up. I keep telling him he couldn't handle you."

Nancy groaned and reached for the covers. "Great. I think one cop is enough for me, thank you very much."

"One cop is definitely enough for you," he murmured, drawing her to him. "And you are _definitely_more than enough for me."

After a long moment she pushed her hair out of her face and pulled back, planting a kiss against his jaw. "Ned?"

"Yeah?"

She traced her fingertips down his shoulder. "How come when you've been asleep for a while before we have sex, you ask me if I'm okay, if I want you..."

He turned his head to the side and smiled. "You sure you want to hear this?"

"Yeah," she said, and dropped a kiss against the base of his neck. "You make me curious."

"A very long time ago, I used to dream about you."

"Ooh... do you mean you used to have sexy dreams about me?"

"I'd call them sexy. You'd call them pornographic. But then, that was before I knew that you were a little bit of a freak..."

She laughed. "Okay, so... when was this?"

"Practically since I met you. I'd dream that we were... together, and something would happen, and you'd have to leave. Or I'd do something wrong, and hurt you, and you would cry..."

She pressed herself up and kissed him. "But now you know better. That I wouldn't leave you, that you wouldn't hurt me..."

He smiled and pushed her hair behind her ear, and returned her kiss. "I do when I'm awake," he said. "But when we... I guess it's just hard for me to believe that all this is true, that you would actually be my wife, that I wouldn't hurt you when we..."

"Fuck," she breathed, a slow smile coming over her face.

"Fuck," he agreed, kissing her hard. "I still don't know why you said yes... maybe because you didn't know."

"I knew everything," she told him, resting her forehead against his. "I knew that I was marrying the best, kindest, most wonderful guy I'd ever known. And you still are. You tying me up every now and then, that's just a bonus."

He tilted his chin down and kissed her hard. "You'd better shut up, unless you want to go three for three tonight."

"So I can still make you hot, Nickerson?"

"Always, babe," he said. "Always."


End file.
